Ghostly Embrace
by couchkat
Summary: She goes back to fight for her friends and for her love. She always does, she is Kenzi.
1. Chapter 1

She woke up with darkness around, the air almost too thick to breathe, or at least it felt like that when she took a tentative inhale and it was like drawing jelly into her lungs. She tried again and no avail. She was on the verge of panicking when she suddenly realized that the air might well be good enough, it was she who didn't need to breathe. Not any longer. That sent her, well and truly, into a tailspin and she started running – along the poorly defined corridors, barely outlined passages, she was running without getting winded until she saw a flicker of light ahead, until she crashed into it, strove through it and felt the floor give way from beneath her. As if someone flipped the switch, the light went out and she was in the dark again, so she shut her helpless eyes tightly, paralyzed with fear, as she knew herself falling.

When she next opened her eyes, it was light again, as light as it could get under the dismally overcast sky she had been so used to seeing every day of her 23-year long life. She found herself sitting on a bench, her legs tucked into her chest, her arms hugging her knees, as if for warmth or comfort but she was feeling neither. In fact, she wasn't feeling cold or desperate either, she was just numb and purposeless. She looked around and immediately recognized the place – the cemetery she used to come to a lot when she was a kid. A weird place for a child to be at but not if you're a street-raised neglected girl-urchin, not if your own home is a much more dangerous and gruesome place.

The last time she had come there she thought she was gonna die. But he said she wasn't and she believed him. He said it was a morbid choice of a resting place but he hugged her and stayed with her and she was safe and calm in his arms.

Her arms fell to her sides and she pushed herself up from the cool wood of the bench. She was looking round, his name on her lips, and that was when she remembered who much had happened between now and then. She saw the smiling siren in her mind's eye, and then she saw the dying siren, a blooded sword sticking out of his chest. She saw the blinding light, not the mild harmless light she had just fallen through, but the intense searing electricity that pierced her small body like thousands of razors.

She looked down and saw she was wearing the fancy pin-patterned off-white top with a broad belt and tight black pants – the ensemble that was one of her favorite outfits. At the very least it used to be one of her faves before the body-switching incident when the less than graceful wolf, who her tiny body was hosting, ruined it with his manly straddle. The memory brought a smile to her face and a sense of longing to her heart. And then she reminded herself that she had ditched the pants long ago, that she wasn't breathing, that she wasn't even hungry. And then she knew she was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: This story is totally a tag team effort, as couchkat actually stands for couchjumper and katnassy, two authors who have put their heads and creativity together to come up with what you're reading now.**

Chapter 1

She knew it with her heart and with her mind, in every non-living cell of her body. She knew she couldn't have survived the portal, she didn't actually want to. It was such a comprehensive answer to all her questions – how to live post-Hale, how to forgive the woman she thought to be her sister for neglect and betrayal, how not to feel inferior to all her fae-friends and enemies. She hadn't been that much afraid of dying, she had been much more afraid of living, and now she was stuck somewhere in-between. She could've indulged herself with a full-blown, fear-induced, tear-soaked meltdown, but she told herself to suck it up and keep moving because that was what she did, that was who she was, dead or alive, human or ghost – she was Kenzi and that was her only certainty at the moment. A dead certainty, she told herself with a half-smile and she sucked it up and kept moving.

Kenzi dodged another pedestrian – out of pure habit rather than necessity – bumping into the other people's bodies didn't hurt but the feeling of being literally invisible to them gave her quite a pang. After another half hour of floating along the streets in an intangible capacity she was well beyond the point of ranting about the life's unfairness and right on the point of screaming her frustration. It took another spaced-out dude looking right through her and then walking straight through her without seeing to send her in a proper ghostly hissy fit.

She grabbed the lapels of the dude's coat, at least she sort of connected her palms to the rough fabric, and shrieked right into his vacant face, "I am somebody, look at me!" Her hands might have been no heavier than air, her voice no louder than sunshine, for all the impact they had on the guy she latched onto. "See me, you, jerk!" Kenzi yelled again, with no more purpose than to relieve her desperation, to hear her own voice. The dude in front of her suddenly blinked and his eyes filled with a more intelligent expression that quickly veered into one of near-panic. "Hey, where did you jump out of?" he flinched from her and sped down the street, throwing a suspicious look over his shoulder at a disheveled skinny chick in a fancy outfit with a crazed glint to her huge pale eyes and an incongruous satisfied smirk on her lips.

Later on she practiced the newly-acquired technique on a shoplifting kid at the mall she rambled into. The teenage girl was just pocketing her swag, a lipstick snatched off the cosmetics counter, when the air in front of her rippled and shaped into a short slender figure of a young woman. The apparition gave the shocked teen a sweet smile and informed her in a sympathetic tone, "You do know stealing is bad and stealing badly is even worse. Give me the lipstick." The mysterious young woman extended a hand and the hapless shoplifter obediently placed the item right into the proffered palm. For a split second the lipstick rocked precariously on the small expanse of the hand and then went straight through the flesh and clattered on the floor.

"That one needs working on," Kenzi mumbled and squatted to pick up the plastic tube, which she only managed to hold an inch above the ground for a couple of seconds before it dropped back. When she straightened with a disappointed pout, the teen was nowhere to be seen and Kenzi wisely followed suit and vanished into the thin air.

Now she'd mastered the appearing trick, she promised herself to keep practicing handling material things as soon as possible but no sooner than was necessary. She had another, a much more pressing concern, the one she was used, in her living days, to calling her fae-mily.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Kenzi was creeping up the stairs when she realized that the usually perilous part of the house seemed, if not more solid, at least much less creaky. She told herself ghost don't need stealth but the human habit was still too strong and she tiptoed across the landing to the half-open door to Bo's bedroom. She tried pushing the door but, though for a brief moment she felt her skin connect to the polished wood, her hand was still making very little physical impact. So, the same as with the front door, she felt justified in slipping through the obstructing partition and halted in front of the king-size bed that had been the arena of so much high-octane succubus action. A quick sweeping glance around informed the girl that the bed, as well as the room, was empty and Kenzi, without further ceremony, slipped through a couple of more walls to find herself in her own bedroom, small but tasteful as she had liked telling herself and the selected few privileged to see the inside of it.

Her room was as empty as the rest of the house turned out to be but what made Kenzi feel as if her heart was constricting – she wasn't sure her non-material organs could perform any such trick any longer – was the fact that not a single thing was missing or displaced. The room looked intact, the room looked lived-in, the room still looked Kenzi's.

"They haven't garbaged my stuff yet," she told her corset hanging on the side of the chair, where she had discarded it at one moment in her pre-sacrifice life. "But where are they?" she asked her cell lying right in the center of the bed-spread where she had put it, reckoning she wouldn't need it during her suicide mission – the connection should be patchy in the death-portal.

Kenzi came up to the window and looked out onto the rain-soaked street – not quite the weather to roam outside, even if she was no longer afraid of smudging her mascara. After a lightning-quick reflection the girl hit on the most plausible location for her friends easily enough and hit the door of said location just a second later. She made a mental note of one more of her useful ghosty skills and seeped through the heavy frame into the Dal.

"A hearty hurray to the teleportation option," she murmured as the sound of the rain pelting down was muffled somewhere behind her back and forayed into the tavern, silent and patron-less at this night hour. With a sorrowful glance at all the welcoming and unwatched bottles lining the shelves above the counter, Kenzi made her immaterial way to the inner sanctum where she could already hear a familiar voice or two.

"Bo!" she cried out, almost hoping her best friend would hear her, but the succubus didn't even flinch, engrossed in a close conversation with her grand-dad and both the fae looked preoccupied and morose. Kenzi perched on an arm of a large arm-chair and flicked her gaze between them, drinking in every feature of their much-missed faces. Bo looked, as per usual, smashing but much more somber and solemn than was usual for her and Trick seemed to have developed a couple of extra lines onto his worried brow.

"I told you to keep your lap Mesmer on a leash, Bo," he was saying with guarded deprecation to his grand-daughter's protesting head-shake.

"I can assure you, Vex has nothing to do with the incident and neither do any of my subjects," she answered smoothly.

"Is that the Dark Leader's official statement?" Trick inquired, obviously unconvinced.

"Absolutely, I am here in my official capacity to inform the acting Leader of the Light that there was no infringement on the Light territory or rights by my people," the succubus rattled off what sounded like a much-rehearsed piece.

"In my official capacity I accept your statement and will proceed to order my trusted officer of the law to investigate the case further, bearing in mind the total un-involvement of the dark fae in the matter," the Blood King's reply was no less smooth or practiced.

"And grand-father to grand-daughter," he added with a change of tone and a conspiratorial wink, "You're lying through your teeth here."

"We both know Vex attacked a light fae searching for information for me," Bo agreed easily, "And we both know that if I had gone down the protocol-approved way it'd've taken a decade longer."

Kenzi was about to pinch herself but remembered that that would be a wasted effort. "My Bo is bogged down in politics," she whispered incredulously, "My Bo leading the Dark? Total nonsense and yet it makes perfect sense." She jumped off her perch, her movements light but her heart heavy. "And actually, you haven't been my Bo for quite a while. And yet I thought you'd be looking for me," she reproached her bestie mildly, "But instead you've moved on and are playing the Queen."

"The only reason I am willing to hush up this infraction of the agreements," Trick went on, oblivious to a gate-crasher's presence, "Is that I know why you needed the information you got Vex to steal from the Light fae antique dealer."

"I am looking for Kenzi, Gramps," Bo stared right into his sympathetic eyes, "And I'll stop at nothing. Don't rope Dyson into running after Vex, he'll only get hurt if he gets in my way."

Kenzi tripped in her high heels, her ghostly legs somehow managing to go jelly-like. "Oh, Bobo, I know I should be flattered," she said in a small, choking voice, "But right now I am having difficulty putting my flattered face on." She plunged through the wall, relieved to be alone in the big empty hall of the Dal. Bo hadn't forgotten about her, Bo was looking for her, Bo was the same she used to be, apart from the tiny fact that she was Leader of the Dark now, apart from the niggling memory of Hale's dead body in their arms and a life-granting succubus refusing to revive him.

Kenzi forced the memory out of her mind and focused on the recent one instead, Bo's last words ringing in her head. "Dyson," the little ghost repeated and she knew where she should go next.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Kenzi tiptoed across the vast expanse of the gym before reminding herself that she could actually click her heels to her heart's content without ruining her chances of sneaking up on the occupants whoever they were. As she was soon to find out, the occupants, as a matter of fact, were too way busy to take notice of a cannon shot if one was fired in close proximity.

The thinking behind swapping the spacious well-lived-in loft for the grubby ex-gym was totally escaping Kenzi but one point that she was willing to concede was the perfect sparring opportunities the new abode presented for the wolf, always keen to stretch his long paws.

Kenzi approached the boxing ring and leaned forward, placing her forearms onto the ropes, which didn't seem to sag at all under her ghostly weight. With no small degree of fascination she was watching the two fae duking it out with careless abandon inside the ring. Light on their feet and graceful, Tamsin and Dyson were circling each other, waiting for a chance to strike, looking for chinks in each other's defenses, punctuating their near-dancing routine with a punch or a feint. The wolf's body, covered by nothing more than his training pants, was glistening with sweat while his blue eyes were glowing with the sheer joy of the fight, though Kenzi could tell he was holding back, reining in his wolf strength, either not to hurt the blonde or to prolong the bout.

On the other hand, the valkyrie, sporting hip-hugging Lycra shorts and a crop top, seemed to have no such chivalrous reservations as her wrapped fist connected with Dyson's face busting the wolf's lip open, and Kenzi flinched involuntarily at the sight of blood dripping down his chin, though perfectly aware it did nothing to dampen the man's nonchalant enthusiasm for the fight.

Unexpectedly, instead of pressing her momentary advantage, Tamsin stopped her assault mid-way and dropped her arms to the sides. "Sorry about that, but you're still pretty," she teased as Dyson, also relaxing his fighter's stance, took a step back and passed a hand across his blooded mouth.

"With a punch like yours, good thing below-the-belt is banned," he grumbled, his sparkling eyes belying his tone, and Tamsin took her cue all too readily. She peeled the wraps off her hands and the next second her soft lips were pressed to the shifter's, licking the blood clean and proceeding to explore further damage with her tongue.

Kenzi hiccupped and made to grab the ropes for purchase but her hands found none as they swept through the cords. "Holly shitballs, Tammy, right in front of your almost Mummy," she murmured trying and failing to tear her gaze off the pair of them frantically working their way through each other scant clothes. The valkyrie had considerably less to deal with as she worried the strings on Dyson's pants but the wolf seemed to take his time easing the straps of the top off the young woman's shoulders.

"That's the moment for me to leave this peep-show," the little ghost told herself, her gaze still locked to the flexing muscles of the wolf's upper body. "As soon as he gets to her bra, I am vanishing out of here," she promised herself and was suddenly washed over by the sense of infinite loneliness.

"I am so happy for you, guys," Kenzi said, valiantly suppressing her selfish misery, and took a step backwards, trying to think up a location she'd rather be at the moment. And that was when she almost choked on her words as Tamsin planted her both palms onto Dyson's chest and pushed him away, her breathing ragged and her face frozen into a purposeful scowl.

"Our typical date," the valkyrie was practiacelly snarling, "Beating the crap out of each other and then fucking the grief out of each other. Is that all you want from me, wolfie?"

Dyson was standing with his back almost touching the ropes, the sparkle of excitement and the frenzy of arousal gone from his eyes, his face empty. "You know the score, Tams," he said flatly, "and it's not like you've ever asked for anything more."

"I don't ask, Dyson, not my style," the blonde jerked her chin up proudly, "I take what I want and I took you that night at the bar. I matched your sorrow and your passion and your loneliness. I showed you how good we could be for each other but I never counted on you thinking of another woman while burning sheets with me."

"Well, whoever it is you are thinking about in the process is not me either, Tams," the wolf returned softly.

"You're just using me to hide from Bo," the blonde went on with her recriminations and stepped forward to push him into the ropes with all the frustration she allowed herself to show.

"So are you, hon," the man easily conceded, "seems like the best we can do for each other."

Tamsin's face crumbled and her shoulders slouched in tiredness and defeat, the fight gone from her posture. Dyson's expression immediately changed to a raw sorrow as he reached her in one long stride and stooped to look her in the eye. "You're all I have, Tammy," he whispered taking her hand in his but just as soon she jerked her fingers from his grip and measured him with a glare.

"You can't love me, you can't forget her, you are wrecking yourself with grief and compunction over Kenzi," she threw at him, "And you're continuously punishing yourself, taking my punches, using me to burn the bridges with Bo."

"True enough," the wolf straightened to his full height, "And that's why we're together, 'cos you're doing just the same."

That turned to be a truth too many for the blonde as she bunched her fists to drive one straight into Dyson's abdomen and took her chance to flee as he doubled up and broke their eye-lock. Tamsin stormed off passing Kenzi on her way out, who, being a perceptive little ghost, saw as much as guessed the traitorous wet glistening of the valkyrie's green eyes.

"No, guys, I am not happy for you," the ghost revised her opinion, "And you, D, are a proper a-hole." She turned to the wolf to deliver that piece of judgment and saw him straighten back, jump off the ring and make his way to a small floor cupboard tucked in one corner. While she teetered in her heels, in two minds as to whether she should follow Tamsin or stay with the douchebag of the wolf, Dyson clearly was more determined about his course of action. In a well-practiced move he opened the cupboard, got out a bottle and a glass of mug proportions, poured a hefty measure of something looking and smelling like whiskey and downed the lot in one go. He, then, ambled into the adjoining room and flopped onto what looked like a much-crumpled low bed, obviously fully prepared not to rest until the bottle was empty.

Kenzi's doubts evaporated when she was running after the long-legged fae and she dropped right beside him on the bed, making a grab for the bottle and not surprising herself with another failure in the touching department. Unobstructed, Dyson knocked back another glassful of the booze and let out a small cough as the whiskey burned its way down to his stomach. His hollow gaze went back to the bottle and he poured himself another portion with a slightly unsteady hand, though it was hard to tell whether it was shaking from the recent exertion, from emotion or from the alcohol kicking in. Kenzi crawled up the bed till she was almost sitting on his pillow and peering into his haggard face.

"What the hell happened to you, D-man?" she cried out, her desperation rising at the sight of her broken friend, "I turn my back for a minute and you're all messed up!"

The glass flew from the wolf's hand and shattered on the floor, spilling the rest of the whiskey on the below-clean floor, as Dyson, clearly startled, shot up to a sitting position on his dirty mattress of a bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Dyson was holding his breath, his body tense, his expression as close to freaking out as the wolf had ever let himself be. Another couple of seconds ticked by and he visibly relaxed, leaning back onto the propped up pillow.

"I should either stop drinking or up the dosage," he said in a grave undertone and grabbed the bottle by the neck.

Against all odds and common sense Kenzi's immaterial fingers tried to pry the booze out of his hand. That move got the wolf to train his slightly glossed-over eyes at the spot where he felt an ethereal pressure against his skin but only shook his head before bringing the bottle up to his lips and taking a generous swig.

Kenzi let her arms drop in resignation and hiccupped through a sigh. "How can I get the hiccups if I don't even breathe?" she wondered aloud and the next moment the bottle went flying out of Dyson's grasp and straight onto his lap, spraying him with the amber-colored alcohol. The shifter swore springing up and dabbing ineffectually at the wet fabric that was sticking at his thighs.

"I am hearing voices, my coordination is shot to hell, I am wasting expensive booze and to top the lot, now I've got wet pants like a pup who can't hold his liquor," he groused to no-one in particular and padded barefoot across the small room to a shabby closet to pull a fresh pair of jeans out. It took an extra second for Kenzi's common sense to kick in and inform her about what he was about to do and she rushed after him, determined not to let her eyes see what was due to be bared.

"Not like I haven't seen you naked before – what with me laving you in Una Mens' cage to name just one of the instances," she rattled off nervously, "And trust me, I do enjoy a yummy male behind, to say nothing of the front, but right now I am not thinking straight as it is."

Dyson froze, the jeans in one hand, the other tugging at his pants strings, his face a near comic mixture of awe and disbelief.

With another emphatic sigh the girl rose on tiptoe to try and look him in the eye. "It's me, D," she tried for her most convincing tone, "It's Kenzi. I want you to see me before you're drunk enough to be seeing pink elephants."

"I am looking at something that can't even be here, no matter how much I want it to be here," the wolf murmured his eyes trained unmistakably at her, which told the ghost her appearing trick had worked again.

"And I am looking at something I hoped never to see again – a defeated, self-destructing Dyson. Last time you were having a douchy spell of epic proportions was after you lost your love and you lost Bo," she reproached him mildly.

"And this time I lost Kenzi and I lost my heart and as it appears now I am losing my mind," he retorted.

"Then we are losing it together," the girl stated, incongruously cheered, "You're looking at a ghost who you might've thought can't exist and I am looking at a fae wolf-shifter who, if you asked me a couple of years ago, I was pretty sure couldn't exist."

"I'll just go to sleep, close my eyes and when I open them in the morning, I'll be sober as a judge and you won't be here," the man outlined a sensible course of action, sounding like he was speaking to himself.

"Nay, fluffy," Kenzi smiled at him with sweet gloating, "I'll still be here, curled up next to you on your bed – by the way, your sheets need changing, they'll start growing mold soon enough. You see, I can't leave or you'll be convinced I am no more than your drunken dream."

Not bothered with recovering his lower parts with something dry any longer, Dyson tossed the jeans back and extended a hand towards the apparition that did not flinch from his attempted touch. He could feel his fingertips tingle, he could sense the energy running through the air around the familiar figure but there was no warmth, no connection, no flesh behind the hologram girl, no sound of breath or heartbeat.

"Ok, I am nowhere near drunk enough to start seeing and hearing things," he finally conceded withdrawing his hand slowly and peering intently into the small tight-lipped face. He was swiftly jolted into near-physical pain by the memory of the last time he had seen her, her huge eyes flooded with crystalline tears, her shaky smile aimed at him, at all of them, the silent promise of salvation in every determined move of her graceful body as she was walking away from him and towards her death.

"Can that really be you, Kenzi?" he whispered, his own long-held tears starting to blur his vision.

"I came back for you risking a gang of unfriendly berserkers, I took on one of the most powerful fae creatures for you, D," Kenzi softly reminded him, "Is it so difficult to believe I could come back to you from beyond the grave?"

"Ok, maybe it is hard to believe," she immediately corrected herself, "but I can do some more convincing. Like I could try and remember some of the things I learned when I was in your body? The elbow you broke against an ogre's skull in 1580-s that still aches if you try a dance move too bold for your millennium-old joints? The chip on your left index claw you got when stopping a sickle blow to your groin in France after a roll in the hay with a wrong woman?"

"I know all of those first hand. How is that supposed to persuade me you're not a manifestation of my guilty conscience, not the drink-induced wolf senility?" the shifter counted reasonably, his eyes still busily studying the perfect Kenzi-copy in front of him.

"Ok, how about something you yourself might not remember all too well?" the little ghost frowned with the effort of recollection. "What did I tell you before we fixed that compass, D-man, before you remembered Bo and everything else became unimportant?" she was herself surprised to hear a distinctly bitter undertone in her last words.

"You said you had like eighty thongs," the wolf recited effortlessly, "You said friends till the end, bros before hoes, pals at the Dal."

"I am impressed, men usually don't retain clothes-related details, though underwear-related details might stick in the minds more," the girl giggled despite the gravity of the moment, suddenly overwhelmed with a light, warm feeling, "And also...?"

"And also you told me when you love you know," Dyson was losing his shocked disbelief fast, his voice mellowing.

"So look at me and tell me if you know," Kenzi's own voice was suddenly small and whispery.

"You are my incredible, crazy human," Dyson slowly nodded, a desperate hope lighting up in his still skeptical eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Tamsin was standing to attention in the vast hall of the small mansion on the Dark territory of the downtown that Bo had chosen as her headquarters. If anyone with a mind-reading ability asked the succubus why, she would probably murmur something about the inconspicuous look and convenient location of the residence while thinking that its general macabre quality and uncomfortable drafty rooms were just what her body and soul craved and well deserved.

Dressed in black from top to toe, with nothing but eye-liner for make-up, adorned with a couple of knife handles protruding from various pieces of her leather outfit, Bo looked to the whole world like a no-nonsense leader of the Dark. In Tamsin's discerning eyes she was a haggard and care-ridden woman with a huge and not quite welcome burden on her shoulders and on her conscience.

"You called, my lady," the valkyrie executed a half-bow that she hoped would seem ironic enough to be in keeping with her snarky personality.

"I need your help, Tammy," Bo bypassed the preliminaries, pacing to and fro in front of the other woman, "I got wind of this ancient scroll that can help gain entry to the nether world and I had Vex track it down for me. But as you know the underdressed walking disaster just can't keep out of trouble and fly under the radar. He got into a run-in with the Light fae in possession of the scroll and I got a roasting from Trick."

"You gave Vex the money to buy the scroll off the owner and the Brit opted for killing the owner and pocketing the money," Tamsin summed up drily, "Wise of him, stupid of you and understandable of the Light fae to fight for his life."

"That is why I want you on this mission with me, to get the scroll, to use it to open up a way to the realm our girl might be in," Bo went on, too taken with her sole focus to take offence at the minor digs, "I need someone who loves Kenzi as much as I do, someone to go the distance with me, someone to cover my ass."

"Why don't you call Dyson?" the blonde asked, restraining herself from checking out said ass which was conveniently turned her way with Bo still pacing away her agitation.

"He's Light," came the curt reply.

"Since when do you care about this?" Tamsin snorted and found herself looking straight into the fired-up brown eyes.

"Since I am shouldering the responsibility for half of my people," Bo enunciated through gritted teeth, "Since I found out how infinitely more difficult it is to kick against the imperfections of the establishment when you're actually in a position of power."

Her black-rimmed eyes were boring deeper into the valkyrie's features as she kept talking, her voice gaining a little playfulness. "On reflection, seeing as you two seem inseparable these days, the wolf can tag along. Call him, Tamsin," the succubus offered, her tone light but her expression unreadable.

"No need," the blonde responded swiftly, "Why would two nice girls need a grumbly wolf?"

Bo suddenly broke into a sincere smile as she put a hand on the other's shoulder, "I am glad to hear that. It's _you _I want, Tammy_."_

The valkyrie could feel her own face burning and she knew a rare, and thus treacherous, blush was coloring her usually pale skin, and she knew that the succubus picked up on it for Bo's smile lost much of it warm friendly sincerity and gained the sultry seductiveness that was undeniably her nature.

"And where is Lauren?" Tamsin asked hoarsely, in a hurried attempt to cover her heated reaction to her leader's words.

"Lauren is busy at the lab, researching Evony's peculiar condition," Bo dropped the smile, but her lower teeth immediately caught her upper lip in an expression that, consciously or subconsciously, was far from innocent.

"Is that a sensible course of action to let the doctor work in that direction?" Tamsin questioned with a little concerned frown, "What if she can turn Evony fae again and the curly bitch makes a grab for the Dark throne?"

"As long as I have enough time to use the dark resources to get my sister back, I don't mind a nice cat-fight with Evony," Bo answered in a low voice, "I don't even mind losing it. I am not sure I'll be much chagrined to relinquish the power."

"Besides, to the best of my knowledge, Lauren is still a long way from reversing the effects of her 'humanizing' serum,' the succubus went on in a nonchalant tone, "But she is happy to be busy and away from me."

"She loves you," Tamsin objected coldly.

"She loves me, Dyson loves me – that seems to be the going axiom. And yet both of them are keeping their distance and nursing their broken hearts as far away from me as they can," the brunette's dispassionate voice didn't waver, "Love is only all-triumphant if it can triumph over pain and ruination. And now that we are all damaged and in pain, it's you who is by my side."

At the look of hope and of the smile, slowly spreading on Dyson's face, Kenzi threw her newly developed ghostly inhibitions to the wind and, on an impulse, lunged in an attempt to hug him. While the rational part of her mind was buzzing with surprise, she felt her body make contact, if only for the merest of moments, and she basked in the sensation for the split second she was accorded. However, when he tried to hug her back, his long arms simply fell through her without connecting.

"Well, that's awkward," Kenzi mumbled, stepping back, and stared up at Dyson who looked more than a little shocked by their failed embrace. Quite understandably shocked, she had to tell herself, for who wouldn't be? It's not everyday that your friend turns into a ghost and comes back to tell you off over a dysfunctional relationship and a bottle of booze too many.

"So, what's the plan, Kenz? Where do we go from here?" Dyson asked after clearing his throat with an embarrassed look that quickly dissipated when Kenzi, immensely boosted by his use of 'we', beamed back at him.

"Do you know how to get you back in your body?" the wolf went on with his half-baked line of questioning. His mind was trying and failing for something pertinent to say, for a smart suggestion or a succinct expression of how he felt. Instead, Dyson was smiling a goofy smile that he couldn't help – he was ways too happy to see her and hear her voice to think beyond that at the moment.

"No idea, D-man, but first things first. What the hell are you doing to Tam-tam?!" Kenzi was starting to get hot under her intangible collar, "No, scratch that! I know what you did to her, I was practically an eye witness, I mean what little I saw of your interaction gave me a general idea…" Her righteous indignation fuelled by her sisterly-motherly feelings towards the valkyrie was significantly dampened by the blurted half-admission of her peeping tendencies.

Dyson cocked a brow with a quizzical half-amused expression, "How long had you been watching us before you spoke to me?"

"Not long and don't try to sidetrack me! I mean, what are your intentions regarding her?" she went on a bit calmer and resorting to her trademark faux flippancy, "I can tell you don't lurve her, wolfie. So what's the deal, dog breath?" She pointed an accusatory finger at his chest, following the gesture with a little shove which wasn't much of a shove as her hand went right through him this time.

"Damn it! Ghost powers at play! I can't even poke a guy!" she thought to herself with a touch of frustration but clamped down on a defeatist attitude, "Get it together, Kenzi, you'll learn to touch, you almost did when you hugged him."

"You're right, I don't love her, I've been using my ex-partner and I've been generally quite ungentlemanly towards her," Dyson started answering in the meantime, his stoop and downwards-trained eyes telling her he was not proud of himself on this one, "In my defense, I don't think she loves me either. And I'm sorry that I hurt her, Kenz, and I'm sorry you had to see that. It's just that we all have been so hurt and confused without you…" He stopped mid-sentence, as if it was self-explanatory, as if it went without saying that losing Kenzi was enough of a reason to unravel, which most probably was the case for him.

Catching Dyson with his guard down, allowed a glimpse into the depth of his pain, the little ghost felt badly for her wolf man, who seemed so contrite and miserable it broke her heart. "You're not quite yourself here, fluffy, but never fear the Kenz is here," she smiled and made as if to put a consoling hand on his chest but immediately jerked it back. Instead, she started pacing the room, her mind churning, while he was openly watching her, taking in her dark blue skinny jeans and black corset with fishnet over her top and – never one to miss them – her signature platform boots. He caught himself thinking that she looked so good, such a sight for his sore eyes.

Kenzi halted her pacing and, executing a sharp half-turn on her vertiginous heels, caught the general direction of Dyson's gaze. "Dude, are you checking me out?" she asked, her eyebrows rising with mixed curiosity and amusement.

"I am just trying to wrap my mind around having you back here," the wolf answered sheepishly and not completely truthfully and the girl slanted her eyes downwards at her own outfit. "Wow! When did I have the time to change my get-up?" she exclaimed with genuine surprise, "A subconscious call to the best part of my wardrobe? That's one ghost power I totally dig!"

"I wonder if I can conjure myself the latest D&G tunic?" she added dreamily and, shaking the mental image and the craving that went with it off, changed tack, "Ok, first off, no more moping in your dog-house, dude, you need to get it together. Bo and Trick need you and I need you if I'm ever going to get back into my body. I mean it's out there, god knows where. Omg! Somebody else could be using my body again! They could be hurting it or, worse still, wearing pink!" Kenzi looked a little woozy at the thought of that. "I may need to sit down, totally faintable idea! We have to find out what happened to my body and how I could be walking around without it and how come I am a frigging ghost now!" she suddenly realized she was channeling Bo at her most commanding and self-centered and went with it, "You need to mobilize the troops for operation 'get the hot Kenzi even hotter' and I do mean my body temperature here. Now, bin the bottle, D, and let's move out! Some fresh air would do you loads of good!"

And with that she motioned for him to get shoved out of the door.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6

They were walking the streets in friendly silence – for the moment Dyson was totally content casting occasional glances to his right where the tiny figure was strutting confidently in her high heels, her long black hair unmoved by the wind. In the meantime, Kenzi was marshalling up her ideas and refraining from starting a conversation which could gain the wolf suspicious stares from the rare passers-by and a weirdo image.

When they somehow managed to find their way to the cemetery and flopped down onto what they could now term 'their bench', she, however, felt ready to speak up.

"Back to the Tam-tam topic," she piped up, "Have I told you how much I hate the way you're treating my adoptive daughter? The mother's job is never done, you know. Honestly, I would be happy for you if I could but I can't."

"Guess we've been helping each other through a hellishly rough patch …" the man uttered, half turning to the girl.

"Which is effectively over now that I'm here," Kenzi finished the sentence for him, "You shouldn't be lovers, you should be rivals cos last I checked you both had the hots for the same succu-girl."

"You know, your ghost status doesn't grant you omniscience," Dyson smiled crookedly and had to remind himself he couldn't even try nudging the girl playfully, so he settled for a wink, "You might be reading your daughter like a book, but I prefer to stay a mystery."

"Some mystery you are," Kenzi chortled good-humouredly, "You gave your heart to Bo long ago."

"I lost my heart when I lost you," the wolf's deep voice fell to a near-whisper, "That didn't leave Bo with much."

Kenzi's mouth rounded into a perfect '_O_' of an atypical rare state of not knowing what to say. Instead, she put a tentative palm as close to the left side of the wolf's chest as she could, so close that she could feel his heart beat but not close enough to experience another spurt of disappointment at failing to touch him.

"It's beating and I am here, though sorta incomplete," she muttered finally, battling tears and ordering herself to keep it together, "And I am making the most of being here and you're talking to Tammy, like now. Let her go, let her move on, let her try and look for her love. Unless deep down you're afraid of competition."

"You're right, I shouldn't be helping her to hide from the obvious," Dyson nodded his consent and added truthfully, "And I am not afraid of competition."

"But what I am afraid of, and I am only telling it to you because I think ghosts should be good at keeping secrets, is having it out with Tamsin," he went on with a smirk, "The girl has a killer of a right hook, I might not come out of it looking as pretty as I do now."

"Hey, D, I am with you – Kenzi the best break-up counselor at your service," Kenzi puffed out her chest proudly and got up, fighting the sudden longing to stay there, on that bench, for as for ever as it was only possible.

Half an hour later at the Dal Dyson was perfectly placed to attest to her proclaimed skills as he was standing in front of one majorly pissed-off valkyrie while the little ghost was circling the arguing couple with small inaudible steps. The mumbled overture to his break-up speech did not go down that well with the woman.

"We should've had this talk long ago, Tams, instead we were burying the problem under quarrels and wild sex," he went on with his unsure delivery and had a considerable difficulty, despite the gravity of the moment, keeping a straight face when he saw Kenzi give him a thumbs-up.

"We've been a great boost for each other but that's just not fair on you," the man plowed on and Kenzi raised her hands waving like a conductor in front of an orchestra, "But I can't give you the relationship you need."

"Hey, more feeling to your words, dude," the ghost was mouthing her instructions, "And don't make her sound the needy one here."

"Time-tested way of getting out of commitment," the blonde gritted out, clearly of not quite the same mind on the matter, "Instead of working on a relationship you're just cutting me loose and trying to look noble in the process."

"I am sorry I hurt you and I am sorry I couldn't give us my best shot," the wolf caught her eyes and read more than just the anger, "And anything short of my best shot is not what you deserve. What you deserve is a chance of being happy with someone you truly love. And as we both know, that's not me."

"I don't want it," the woman shook her head stubbornly, "I thought you understood that. I don't want to be happy, I don't want my chance. I don't deserve it, I don't deserve _her_."

The wolf's face reflected the same pain that was racking Tamsin and he put his arms around her shoulders in a comforting gesture, "Stop beating yourself up over Kenzi, it's me who let her walk into that portal, it's Bo who put so many things first and ahead of her human friend. It's not your fault."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he jerked his head upwards and looked at Kenzi over Tamsin's bowed head. The ghost shook her head slowly, her lips moving to breathe out: "It's Ok, D. Not your fault either."

"You don't know that," the valkyrie pushed him away and broke his arm-lock but the fight was suddenly completely gone out of her, "I let her down and I have to pay for that."

Kenzi was at the shifter's side in a fast-forward movement, tiptoeing to stare him in the face, to scream to him, "Tell her I forgive her! Whatever she thinks she did, I forgive her and I love her and I want her to find her happiness!"

Looking straight over Kenzi's head at the anguished face of his lover, Dyson spoke up, his delivery now steady and resonant and full of conviction, "I've never lied to you, Tams. I said the sex was great and it was. I say go get yourself some Bo and I mean it. I say you deserve love and happiness and it's true. And you have to believe me on one more thing – Kenzi loved you and will always love you, come hell or high water. And there's not a thing she can't forgive someone she loves for. Accept, maybe, letting her Bo stew in frustration."

"Now you're playing a medium and giving your mate away?" the valkyrie asked cautiously, suddenly hopeful despite herself.

"If you can succeed where both Lauren and I have spectacularly failed, I won't be in the way," the wolf told her in a low resolute voice and turned his broody expression into an unexpectedly cheeky smile, "Though if she comes running in a week begging for some proper wolf junk, I might reconsider."

Tamsin couldn't help mirroring his smile, though it was still far from a happy one. "No chance, if I get my way with the succubus, she won't remember the look of any junk," she snarked and stretched her hand towards the shifter. "This talk is not yet over, but I have to run now," she continued in a serious tone, squeezing his big hand in hers, "But thanks for having my back, partner, even when I am making it very difficult."

As soon as Tamsin disappeared behind the backs of the early-night revelers at the tavern, Kenzi hopped onto the vacated bar-stool.

"That was intense," she declared, throwing envious looks at the rows of bottles on the shelves behind the counter, "You did well, she didn't even kick you in the gut as I had expected."

"This feels right," Dyson drawled and looked at the girl out of the corner of his eye, "I mean telling her all that, not her kneeing me in the privates."

"I can see a new bar-tender, the acting Ash should be too busy to serve drinks right now. Let's go see an old friend?" Kenzi suggested, getting off the stool, "If he can grant us an audience."

"I thought you'd like to see Bo next?" the wolf raised a brow in question.

"Not yet, fluffy, I am not ready yet," the little ghost was looking down at the tips of her ghostly shoes, "forgiveness either comes easy or it doesn't."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7

Tamsin threw the dealer against the wall with such force that his teeth rattled and the pointy tip of his tongue sneaked out of his mouth in protest, forking and vaguely threatening.

"Get that one back inside or I'll make you swallow it," the valkyrie warned him in a low, all-business tone.

"I'll file a complaint against the Dark brutality," the fae squeaked trying to wriggle out of the woman's decisive grip.

"Which would be given proper consideration in this difficult times of mending the burned bridges between our camps," the blonde sneered, "Your Ash would be so grateful for you kicking a fuss over a tiny incident. Besides, don't say the Dark don't pay what they owe. The money is in the bag, more than enough for the old dusty scroll. Where is it, by the way?"

"It's old and dusty, but it contains unique nuggets of otherworldly wisdom and, going by how much you're coughing up for it, far from useless," the dealer replied getting more confident that he wasn't to be offed by the belligerent woman.

"Don't get smart with me – doesn't suit you at all," Tamsin growled and her hand squeezed the man's throat so convincingly that he wheezed with a jerky nod towards the solid-looking metal cabinet in the farther corner, "It's there, let me open the safe."

The valkyrie dragged the fae across the room and a click of the lock later was holding the parchment in her left hand while with her right she pushed the dealer into a big antique plush arm-chair.

"Believe it or not, I've never been in an antique shop in all my lives," she stated looking the antsy fae in the face, her tone heavy with meaning, "and you'd better believe and corroborate it."

"And I've never seen a dark valkyrie in my life," he took his cue, nodding for further emphasis, "Nor the scroll."

Without another look Tamsin strode out of the shop, with the scroll tucked under her dark red leather jacket, her green eyes full of uncertainty that she couldn't blink away. At the sight of Bo's expectant face, however, her heavy doubts, if not completely dissipated, were pushed back into the deeper recesses of her mind.

"I so hate to be waiting on the side lines! Hate this politically sensitive job," the succubus exclaimed standing up from the yellow hood of her trusty old bucket of a car, "Have you got it?"

"And I hate to fail my missions," the valkyrie smiled tautly and her hand delved inside her jacket to produce her booty.

"Accept that one time when you refused to betray me to your master," Bo reminded her mildly and her warm smile, full of gratitude and faith, was enough of an award for the Norse warrior.

"Now we go get Trick to read this for us," the Dark leader waved the parchment triumphantly in the cooling air of the gathering dark, "Then, if my tip pans out, we'll know how to enter Valhalla without being actually dead and I can go and get us our Kenzi back where she belongs."

Tamsin's collected face screwed up in anguish that the brunette couldn't fail to notice. She snapped out of her state of impatient eagerness to act and stepped towards the other woman putting a hand on her shoulder with genuine concern.

"What's the matter, Tams?" Bo asked, a nasty sensation starting to brew in the pit of her stomach, "Do you have to tell me something? Now is the time."

The blonde's hands fisted as she drove her nails in the soft flesh of her palms. "You can't do this, Bo," she uttered quietly, her gaze downcast.

"There are so many things they told me I couldn't do," the succubus replied with calm defiance, "Sometimes they were right, but mostly I proved them wrong." "Don't you of all people believe in me any longer?" her tone was suddenly a plea.

"I do, Bo, I will always believe in you," Tamsin stated with heated conviction, "But Kenzi is not in Valhalla."

The brunette's hand squeezed her shoulder with force, gentle but insistent. "What are you saying?" the brown eyes bored into the valkyrie's pale face with laser intensity, "I thought you took her there."

"I didn't," came the faltering admission, "She was snatched from me on the way there. Kenzi died on the border between two realms, her soul was claimed by someone who is the master of the other realm, so powerful that he overcame me."

"The Dark Lord," Bo exhaled the name she near hated, "My father took Kenzi."

"Looks that way," the valkyrie nodded dejectedly, "I failed you and I failed her."

"You so didn't," Bo's attention was back on the woman in front of her, her hand soft and caressing again, "I know how strong he is, I couldn't fight him myself. It took a tiny human to foil his plans, she triumphed where we, powerful fae, failed. And now we need to get her back, simple as that, nothing's changed, Tams. Instead of a trip to Valhalla, I'll be booking a charter to wherever the bastard is holed up."

"Don't you see it's just what he wants," the blonde grabbed the lapels of Bo's jacket with vehemence approaching passion, "That's why he snatched Kenzi – to lure you, to trap you."

"What do I stand to lose?" the succubus locked eyes with Tamsin, as if trying to force her meaning into the other's mind, "He won't be able to take any more than he has already taken from me."

Dyson stopped before the heavy door and turned to his tiny ghostly companion with a residual fear of not finding her there by his side, he still hadn't wrapped his head about the duality of her standing next to him, all life-size and undoubtedly Kenzi, and yet being untouchable and invisible to everyone else.

"Are you gonna show yourself to Trick or are we pulling another Dyson-the-medium session?" he asked, ridiculously uncomfortable at the idea of Kenzi revealing herself to his old friend, as if it somehow rankled to break their exclusiveness, to share her.

"Well, seeing as I can't get any free booze off him any longer, there's no rush," Kenzi waved a hand dismissively, "You start and I'll butt in if I feel the need. I want to see first how he is doing."

"He is doing fine, being the acting Ash," the wolf said, "But he misses you, the same as all of us."

"He was one of the people who were fighting the undead dead when I was taking my final stroll to the portal," the girl slowly admitted, "I remember him rotating that staff of his – total badass, our Trickster."

"He is a very hands-on ruler and pretty agile with wooden weapons, as I could witness firsthand," Dyson smiled and continued firmly, stamping on his unreasonable longing to keep her for himself for just a little longer, "And also he's the wisest person I've ever met who can know something about your current …hm… condition and how to fix it."

For the moment Kenzi looked doubtful, not that he questioned Trick's immeasurable experience and wisdom, but she had to do some careful thinking before implicating another of her friends in her unique predicament.

At that point the door was thrown open and a small figure appeared on the threshold, all impressive and illuminated in the light streaming from inside.

"Have you started talking to yourself, old friend?" the Blood King enquired, his shrewd eyes scanning the face of the younger fae, "I've been listening to your mumbling for a couple of minutes already." Before Dyson had a chance to come up with a plausible answer and explain to himself how he could've missed the other's approach with all his heightened wolf-senses, Kenzi butted in much sooner that she herself had expected.

"Hi, Trick!" she waved a self-conscious hand in front of her, "D-man hasn't yet gone cray-cray, it's just me, the friendly ghost Kenzi!"

"Did I look that slack-jawed stupid when I saw you for the first time?" Dyson asked in a whispered aside at the sight of the Blood King, his mouth agape, staring in awed stupefaction at the fluorescently outlined figure of the dearly loved human.

The needle jabbed the inside of Evony's elbow and the woman exhaled an _Ouch!_ that she managed to instill with indignation and surprise in equal measure. "That hurts," she complained, "And I am not sure I have enough blood left in me, doctor, to satisfy your clinical curiosity, though I might still have enough fire to satisfy your other needs." She flicked her voluminous hair with a flirty pout and looked up at her attending physician.

Lauren was frowning in concentration as she extracted the syringe and sealed the sample into another of her test tubes. She didn't dignify Evony's come-on with as much as an extra glance though if she were honest with herself there was a fluid warm feeling spreading in her nether parts at the sound of the rich husky tone.

"You need this research much more than I do," the blonde said by way of a reply to an implied proposition, "For me it's just one of the many, for you it's a matter of survival. So, I totally expect to be paid, Evony."

"As soon as I am back to my full fae gorgeousness," the ex-Morrigan drawled, stretching her slim arm to play with a blonde lock of the doctor, "that is presuming your booby girl-friend lets you restore my powers."

"My girl-friend is not afraid of you," Lauren replied with dignity.

"You mean she is too busy with her new position and with looking for the skinny dead human to be afraid of me," Evony corrected her with a sly grin, "And you, my good doctor? Are you afraid of my fae-return?"

"Finding a way to make you fae again and making you fae again is not the same," it was Lauren's turn to let a satisfied smile play on her lips, "And right now it's you who should be afraid of me."

"Touche," Evony had to admit, "Which just adds to the list of the reasons why I am so eager to get back into your confidence and your panties."

"You've never been anywhere close to the former," Lauren said almost haughtily, "As to the latter, it is such a long way to go that your human life might not be enough."

"Keep telling yourself that," the brunette drawled, her sharp eyes searching the other woman's face, "Another week or so of being completely ignored by the one I have generously called your girl-friend, and my advances might stand a better chance."

"Bo is not ignoring me," the doctor lost her temper despite her better judgment, "She's busy doing your job and looking for Kenzi."

"Trust me, Lauren," Evony wasn't losing her cat-like smile, "If I had someone like you in my bedroom, doing my job and looking for an associate would definitely have to be put on the back burner, at least for a couple of hours per day. And I do mean every day!"

"Bo and I have done a lot to hurt each other and now we need time for the edges to smooth over. The question is how much time it'll take," the blonde muttered looking down at her hands twined in her lap but then swung her gaze up, "And what am I doing opening my heart to someone like you?"

"Well, I am here and I am listening," the brunette shrugged her shoulders dispassionately, "Though your tale of woes does make for a boring listening. Fill me in on some racier details or I'll start yawning."

Lauren didn't even try to hide the smile that was suddenly lighting up her expression. "Evony the agony aunt," she teased good-humouredly.

"I am bored," the ex-Morrigan pouted.

"And I am lonely," the human doctor whispered.

That was the moment when the door to the lab swung open creaking on its hinges and the room started to feel cramped with two more women bursting in, full of focused energy and purpose.

"Lauren!" Bo threw her arms around the slim human while Tamsin, keeping closer to the door, tried to ignore Evony's disgusted grimace and fight back an urge to connect her fist with the smug face of her former leader.

"We so need your help," the succubus rattled off, dispensing with social niceties, "It's something we found that can help us get Kenzi back. You have to decipher it for us." "We can't possibly go to Trick with that, you know what he'll say – that's too dangerous, you are not at liberty to risk your life, Isabeau," she mimicked in her best Trick-voice, without noticing the blonde doctor flinch and lose the fleeting hopeful expression that had appeared on her face just seconds ago.

"Of course, Bo," Lauren replied, her tone steady and clinical, the mask back in place, "Let me just get Evony to her room and I'll be at your disposal."

The blonde turned to her ex-fae patient and was taken aback by the uncharacteristic look of compassion in Evony's huge brown eyes, that she managed to catch before it glazed over into indifference.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 8

Trick attacked the most dusted, and thus looking the most venerable, shelf of books with vigor though he couldn't help squinting every now and then at the lightly glimmering figure that was perched on an arm-rest of a big arm-chair, next to Dyson who was leaning against the wall, long-legged and relaxed. The figure was dangling her booted legs and exchanging barbs with the "Fluffy", who seemed to have lost much of his usual broodiness and be basking in the soft radiance of her smile. The initial shock and incredulity quickly made way for an overwhelming joy, the likes of which the old fae hadn't experienced since his only grand-daughter passed her Dawning and managed to revive his only trusted, sacrifice-prone friend in the process.

Trick locked his sagging lower jaw into place, brushed a covert tear from the corner of his eye and rolled up his sleeves, the action suiting the intention. Now he was all fuelled by a determination to move the earth to help the tiny fearless woman to the best of his Kingly ability. On some consideration, he finally selected a tome and waddled over to his younger friends to take a seat on a low padded stool and to open the parchment-like pages on the coffee table in front of them.

Dyson, taking his cue from his King, unpeeled himself from the wall and sat into the arm-chair, so that he would have brushed Kenzi's thigh on his way if she had had any brushable body parts. However, he threw a complicit surprised look at her as he, not for the first time, felt a wave of warmth that would normally be there, radiating from her body under happier, less supernaturally complicated circumstances.

"Mind tricks? I just know what I should be feeling?" he asked himself again and shoved the thought aside as he leaned forward, towards Trick's clever book.

"I am not sure I can be of much help here," the wolf grumbled with a fleeting look at the hieroglyph-strewn pages, "My Egyptian is dismally non-existent."

"The last time I was in Cairo visiting, your grandfather wasn't yet a twinkle in your great-grand-father's yellow eyes," the Blood King said, his hand running down the page, his brow creased in concentration, "But as compared to an under-educated wolf of barbarian Celtic tribes and an ignorant human, spoilt by the Internet, I seem to be an expert."

"Why do we need an Egyptian book at all?" Kenzi inquired, generously forgetting to take the huff, "Sure, it looks mighty smart but the guys who wrote it have so long been out of the picture …"

"And in their prime were the biggest authorities on the properties of the soul and its after-death migration," Trick cut in in a didactic tone, "They are our go-to guys if we want to find out what happened to you. Your soul is obviously not in Valhalla, most probably never was. If you'd visited either Asgard or Folkvangr, you'd remember."

"That's what Tams has been beating herself up over," Dyson murmured with a pang of sympathy for the tormented valkyrie, "She said once she had failed Kenzi. Someone must have taken Kenz away from her on the way and that someone has to be frigging powerful to pull such a snatch on our Tammy."

In the meantime, Trick was leafing through the tome while a shadow was spreading over his features and taking grip of his heart. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind a niggling germ of a memory was clawing its way to the surface, tentative and fragmented but persistent.

"If millennia-old wisdom holds true, what we have the pleasure of seeing among us is Kenzi's Ka, her vital essence, which distinguishes a living person from a dead one. The ancient Egyptians believed that death is simply the _ka_ leaving the body," the Blood King imparted, working faster than Google translate application.

"I could've wiki'ed it, T-man," the vital essence grouched, irritated by this verbal autopsy and all the unsubtle talk about her death as much as by her inability to get hold of the glass of vodka Dyson had procured for himself in anticipation of some research time.

"Your spirit is here but your body is somewhere. Technically, you're not a ghost, you're your spiritual part, and to separate that intact from your physical body, to enable it to return to the world of the leaving takes someone with great powers," the old fae went on undaunted.

"Don't get me started on my perfect little body," Kenzi whined, "Or rather do get me started. Where is it? Any chances of me getting back into it? And what happens if I do? RIP, Kenzi Malikov and a proper burial this time? Who or what is in my casket, by the way?"

"Geraldine," Dyson exhaled, the wave of pain washing over him all over again, almost as searing as the one that had submerged him when he was putting the little human's favorite sword into the empty wooden box.

Kenzi winced and fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable on her perch. "At least, no one is using my Gerry to open up beer cans. I totally expected Vex to," she chirped in an attempt to cheer herself up.

Trick forcefully slammed the book shut, a cloud of dust rising from the cover, and looked up and straight at the girl who was scintillating mere couple of feet in front of him.

"If you really were dead, then to return you to your physical carcass would be your true and final demise," his tone was extra grave and portentous even on the Trick scale, "But there's a chance that you weren't actually killed by the portal. There's a sliver of possibility that at the moment you entered the portal your Ka was taken from you while you were still alive, which would make you technically alive."

"And in this case if the spiritual and the physical parts get reunited, Kenzi will be alive again," Dyson jumped up and to a conclusion, knocking his glass in the process.

"Quite likely," Trick nodded looking like someone who had just made an executive decision, "But I can't pronounce yet, first I need to talk to someone who can be holding vital pieces of the puzzle."

He hurriedly picked himself up from the stool and measured his young friends with a stern look, "I was about to ask if I can trust you to behave and do some useful research while I am out, but Kenzi's lifting abilities are, for now, neutralized, so I won't bother."

"If that's your way to say how much you've missed the fragile powerless human, I graciously agree to read between the lines," Kenzi beamed at him.

"Fragile? Really?" Trick chortled, the tears again threatening to well in his eyes and dent his tough exterior, his voice breaking, "You, again, have managed the unthinkable, you beat the unsurpassable odds and managed to seep back into our world. Whatever that is, that is not a display of powerlessness! Take it from a millennia-old fae King!" Before any more signs of weakness could further embarrass the acting Ash, he turned on his heels and hurried to the door, his mind switching to the mission at hand.

"Do you need me to go with you, old friend?" Dyson called after his retreating form, "In case that knowledgeable connection of yours gives you any grief."

"I think I'll fare better alone," the Blood King gave a mirthless little smile looking over his shoulder, "My connection won't harm me, but she might not respond well to some wolf muscle. You'll anyway be better occupied continuing to eat Kenzi with your eyes."

"Hey, she's changed her outfits four times so far, and each next one is fancier than the previous," the wolf shot back with a smirk, "I have to keep track."

At that point Trick had to turn back and give the girl, who couldn't resist a proud mien, a fascinated once-over. "I have to admit, such details escape me," he said finally, "For me Kenzi looks like a glowing shimmering outline, the patterns and the fabrics are clearly lost on my old self."

It was Dyson's turn to be surprised as his gaze swung back to the pseudo-ghost. "I can see every stray hair and every eye twinkle," he said gravely, "If I didn't see and hear that she is not actually breathing, I could think she is whole and alive."

"That's curious," Trick mumbled and shook the thought out of his mind for the moment, intent to find answers to more pressing questions first.

Lauren rubbed her straining eyes and leant back in her chair, "The scroll seems to be three-fourth a philosophic treatise on Irkalla, Valhalla and a nod or two towards you old acquaintance Leviathan, Bo. Then a couple of spells for those reckless enough to attempt to enter the nether worlds, and what is note-worthy, there's not a word about the get-out-of-there spells. Then, cherry on top, comes the last paragraph that might actually refer to my failed father-in-law," the doctor looked up at her captive audience and forced a smile onto her earnest face to punctuate the joke, "And sorry if my rhymes are not up to scratch, but Literature was the only subject I ever got a B in."

She inhaled deeply and recited, reading off the screen, her brow creased with focus, "Oh you the one who was born a God, the one who was killed by them, the one who returned and the one who rebelled. The one who was banished and doomed to guard his portal and to be imprisoned behind it! You the one who swallows souls and who gulps down the corpses of the dead who pass by you when they are lost, the worthy ones to the halls of Valhalla, the unworthy to eternal damnation..."

"There were lots of gods who perished in a battle for power with their godly siblings," the valkyrie called from her spot on an uncomfortable chair that she largely improved by propping her long legs on a lab counter, "As legend goes, Zeus ousted his brother Hades to rule in hell, for instance, but it doesn't really sound like what you've just read, Lauren."

"No, it doesn't," the doctor ruefully shook her head, "I cross-referenced the scroll with the legends and myths available and so far no joy, there are loads of partial coincidences but not a single archive entry or legend that would suit the entirety of the scroll."

"Don't sweat it!" Bo waved a hand dismissively, "Not like I am not interested in my pedigree, but one thing is for sure, it's doom and gloom enough. So, park it for now, cut to the chase – does it say how I get to whoever the bastard really is? Or would our money and effort be better invested in getting royally tanked?"

"You can't go wrong with getting royally tanked," Tamsin muttered with a touch of a dreamy expression and unfolded herself into a standing position.

"May you open the portal for the one neither dead nor soulless, for the one seeking, for the one you cannot refuse …," Lauren quoted again, "That is how the spell goes. Your pronounce the words at the site of the portal, you drop some blood, a bit of setting the atmosphere and a fire for ambiance and if he wishes to see you, he'll let you in."

"After all the time and effort he spent on finding Bo, he should be pissing himself with happiness, if she comes to him herself," the valkyrie provided running commentary, edging her way closer to the doctor with her clever computer.

"There's a hitch, however, the scroll says you need to trigger the spell, a sure-fire way being with a sacrifice, preferably a human sacrifice, to offer up a soul for the One who is blah-blah," Lauren went on.

Bo whirled in place, her eyes blazing belligerently, as if in anticipation of a fight, "We can try a humanistic approach and kick-start the spell with a spurt of succubus juices instead," she mused aloud, starting to pace the length of the lab, "And the gut feelings tells me it can work!"

As soon as she was close enough for whisper and Bo seemed absorbed enough in her own batlle-plans, Tamsin leaned to whisper into Lauren's ear, "I feel increasingly like snatching this damned scroll, jumping my distinguished leader and tying her to the nearest unmovable and unbreakable object till I get rid of the scroll and reduce the site of the portal to unidentifiable flecks of dust. Are you with me, Lauren? Wanna jab our perky succubus with something to knock her out?"

Lauren's eyes studied Tamsin with new appreciation. "If that were so simple, valkyrie," she sighed in reply, her tone as grim as her face, "But knowing Bo, chances are she would still keep looking, after cutting us out of her quest and, quite possibly, to small pieces."

"My smallest pieces would still agree that any option is better than letting Bo charge into the realm of Doom without back-up," the Norse blonde drawled, her eyes slitted, "And we both know she can charge."

"My thinking precisely," the younger woman nodded, "That is why I have a fallback ready for our favourite succubus."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 9

Trick lingered on the rickety porch, straightening his overcoat, turning down the collar he had jerked up in response to a sharp wind, looked down checking the tips of his polished boots for inappropriate specks of dirt. The old fae smiled at himself, preening like a teenager taking a girl out for the first date – the woman he came to see was a far cry from a romantic interest even for the least discriminate and yet he was straining to look his most presentable best. The woman he was gearing up to take on was more of the intimidating and awe-striking type, an adversary slash conspirator the Blood King wouldn't grant with the tiniest advantage.

His raised hand was about to rap against the wooden frame when the curtain was pulled aside on the door screen, the door creaked open and the lady of the house appeared on the threshold – as thin and fragile at first glance as the weathered partition and just as solid and unbending at closer contact.

"The Blood King himself graces my humble abode," she cooed, her sly smile belying the humility of her words, her sharp tone supercilious rather than ironic, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"No pleasure involved whatsoever," Trick grumbled pushing past her and into the tiny anti-chamber in an uncharacteristic determination to cut down on the niceties and get out of the crisp wind's way in one fell swoop, "Extraordinary occurrence that might call for extraordinary measures has brought me here, Norn."

"At your service, my king, as always," the old woman openly mocked him but, recognizing the urgency in his tone, she motioned with her hand for him to follow her and waddled down the narrow corridor into the depth of the house, delving into the enveloping woodsy smell and shadow.

They stopped in the middle of the main room, right before the thick trunk of a tree that was spearing the ceiling and, as usual, the intense stream of power emanating from it hit Trick, making his nerve endings jangle, making him catch his breath. The man, however, forced himself to turn away from the majestic leafy crown, reminding himself of the need to keep his own against the powerful old hag.

"The moment I have been deferring for decades has come, Norn," Trick started portentously and cut to the chase, going on the simple reasoning that the faster he got to it, the faster he could go through with what had to be done and be out of there, "Something strange has happened, something unheard of. Someone has come to our world from across the portal, from the realm of the Dark Lord."

The woman propped herself with a hand against the rasping bark of the tree, as if drawing strength from its callused surface. "I am impressed," she admitted, "But not enough so yet to willingly cooperate. We agreed that only most pressing circumstances could force us to return the memories we had erased. Are you sure the circumstances are that pressing, Blood King, or is it the old age and stewing twinges of guilty conscience prevailing over your common sense?"

"A while ago the seal on the portal was compromised, the Dark Lord was about to come through. Then, a young human's life was sacrificed to keep him in his exile," Trick kept his rendition of the tragedy impossibly condensed and conveniently skipping over the identity of said human, "The ghost of this human is now sitting in my parlor, she crossed the border back, at least her vital essence did. And if you believe these to be circumstances unworthy of consideration you can kick me out with your stick up my royal butt."

The Norn, expression unreadable, pale blue eyes downcast, pressed her palm against the barely visible scars on the bole of her tree, the ones that had been bleeding for so long after a chainsaw had ripped them open. "And again, a young human changing the course of fae-history," she murmured to herself, another incident called to mind by association, "these flimsy mortals are getting cheeky…"

"You didn't bother to come when you puppy got heart-hurt at my hand and yet here you are now, scared by the apparition of a worthless human?" she asked aloud, her tone arid.

"You cheated Dyson and almost destroyed him but back then I thought it was his mistake, I thought he should have known better. Even now I am still not sure I was right in choosing not to interfere on his behalf and letting my friend suffer," Trick answered her half-accusatory question. "In my defense, I am trying to learn from my mistakes. Now it so happens that the vital essence in my parlor is life-sustaining for at least two of the people dearest to me," the man frowned, his patience wearing thin, the concern gnawing at him from the inside, "And though I, by no means, expect you to appreciate the significance of that, let me cover another angle. She has been released into our world, by mistake or by design, but the power it had to take is unrivalled and we both know that means _he_ is getting stronger."

"We know but we don't remember," the Norn nodded her impartial acknowledgement, thoughts racing inside her convoluted mind, weighing and mulling over the new facts, trying to slot them into the remnants of her recollections.

"We _have_ to remember," the Blood King said with urgency, "Who we are pitted against, why we chose to banish him not only from our world but from our thoughts as well. It is getting beyond any one fae, Norn, it might well be the matter of our kind's survival."

"Oh, yes, it should've taken a fae of unprecedented evil magnitude to make two old cynics team up and trust each other with their remembrances," the woman snorted and hobbled across the room to the side door, "Time to rummage in my home-made preserves pantry. I should have the Blood King's darkest memories stored someplace."

Kenzi fidgeted restlessly and, a minute later, hopped off the arm-rest. "I am bored, D," she whined and started circling the room, "Forced onto the wagon, no discerning eyes to admire my outfits – what can a girl do to entertain herself?"

Dyson gulped down the lump that was obstructing his throat as his undiscerning but much appreciative eyes were greedily drinking in the sight of Kenzi. "Trick said it was important, he promised us some answers," he started placatingly, "Not much we can do in the meantime."

"Hey, fluffie, unlike you, I can't even bet any longer on my full human life span, given my precarious in-between-the-realms status," the girl tried to keep her tone light, refusing to be depressed into self-pity, "So every second I am not doing something fun or something world-saving is a waste."

She hovered in the shelf-lined corner, bypassing the book-filled surfaces and zeroing in onto a CD rack.

"No pizza, no booze, no bumping my ghostly uglies," she murmured sticking out a curious hand, fingering the plastic covers, undisturbed by her touch, "But I can still dance, can't I?"

Kenzi eyed the meager CD collection with a frown of disapproval, "The old T-bag is decidedly gruesome, like a thing of the past meets a thing from the Arc, classics, more classics, and I don't even mean the Rolling Stones. Wagner, _the Flight of the Valkyries_? Hey, is that about our Tammy by any chance?"

"No, and not exactly dance music either," Dyson chortled, reminded all over again of how young the woman in front of him was.

"Ok, I can work with this, at a pinch," she pointed to a bright red and black plastic rectangle that seemed less disgusting to her refined tastes, "Argentinean tango! A girl can rock it, with a bit of skill, a semblance of hips and a half-decent partner."

"Come on, Dyson, don't let me die a second death, that of boredom," she puckered her lips in an adorable plea and extended an arm in invitation. The shifter shook his head, torn between amused and panic, the latter quickly prevailing.

"No way, Kenz," he groused, "You can't make my millennium-old joints or my no-younger dignity bend that way."

"The last time I saw you dancing," she accompanied her words with a brow wiggle, her mind on the present difficulty of wielding solid objects, even as light as a CD, "You were very bendy and very dignified."

"The last time we danced … ," Dyson echoed her and choked on his words as it hit them both simultaneously. He saw Kenzi's little face crumble, crushed by the repressed memory finally resurfacing.

"Hale," she moaned, the Siren's smiling floating in her mind's eye, her body still feeling his warm touch, her unbeating heart petrified with grief.

With an effort, the wolf shook off his own anguish and lunged forwards from his seat, covering the distance between them in seconds, halting inches away from her frozen, desperate figure. He was racked with the inability to comfort her with his warmth, to envelope her in his protective hug, to chase the excruciating pain away. No murmured platitudes, no promises, no sympathetic silences could heal the wound that ran that deep. Recognizing the futility, Dyson opted for a diversionary tactic instead and stretched a long arm to grab a random CD, slotting it into a player and pushing the play button in one fluid movement.

"My lady," he offered his hand to Kenzi, palm up, hoping he hadn't just signed up for a zumba. The first melancholic notes reverberated through the room and the words were carried straight to the heart by a magnificent female voice – _Little ghost, you're listening_.

"That's an apt beginning," the wolf grinned down at the tiny woman, "May I have the honor."

The pale, tear-streaked face bravely collected itself into a semblance of a smile as she put her own weightless palm over his, keeping it a quarter of an inch away from his skin. She readily allowed herself to be distracted, to be screened from her pain, to feel cherished and supported.

"You haven't forgotten your moves, wolfie?" she teased taking a half-step back with her right leg, giving space for his left one to move forward, "Though this one sounds more like a waltz or just a slow-motioned stomp than a tango to me."

"I haven't forgotten anything," he whispered back, his right hand sliding beneath her right shoulder blade, circling her slim waist, keeping to the same illusion-sustaining protocol of not quite touching, "Down to the last spangle on that dress of yours."

"Of this one?" Kenzi's answering grin was distinctively mischievous as she willed the item onto her supernatural body. Dyson's glowing eyes raked over her, showing appreciation and yellowing under the strength of an unexpressed emotion, which sent the girl straight down the memory lane. She harked back to that evening when she had chosen her look for the Engelram's party, when she had gone for a strict and slicked updo and a dress she hoped would make her look older, more womanly and less like a street urchin, more desirable for an experienced and discerning man she meant to charm.

"Sorry I am out of keeping, what with my casual look, didn't think to rent a tux," he said looking down at his plain shirt and old jeans, "But I fully intend to offset that regrettable fact with my waltzing skill, if we can manage a waltz to this piano piece."

"Dyson, the biggest skills you have boasted so far are definitely more of battle-field and bedroom variety," the girl's smile finally gained some sincerity and reached her grey eyes.

"I might surprise you here, babe," the wolf grinned locking eyes with her, leading with his gaze for lack of tactile contact, and she easily took her cue, their legs doing the steps, never touching, their bodies close but never colliding, the proximity of his hands to her skin warm but weightless.

"Not for nothing did I spend 5 years at the court of Joseph II when the gliding dance was all the rage," Dyson cocked a brow, looking down at the dark haired head of the girl.

"I promise I'll google what you've just said," she snorted in return and gasped as she finally recognized the song, "Birdy? Strange Birds? Really, Trick, that plugged-in?"

"_Now I want to fly into your world, I want to be heard_," Kenzi repeated after the performer, "Or I am so with you, girl."

_Oh little ghost, you see the pain  
But together we can make something beautiful,  
So take my hand and perfectly,  
We fill the gaps, you and me make three,  
I was meant for you, and you for me._

"_I was meant for you and you for me_," the little ghost echoed, looking up into Dyson's earnest face and wondering if she should close her eyes and will another face to the front of her mind. She remained open-eyed, her gaze locked with the baby-blues of the man holding her in a ghostly embrace.

"The sound of your heart beating," the shifter suddenly said with surprise, leaning towards her, his sensitive ears almost visibly pricked.

"Don't tell me fae warriors have a sneaking soft spot for cheesy lyrics," she tried to sound casual with a touch of taunting, "Besides, it's not even in the song."

"No, your heart," Dyson almost stammered, his body executing the next move on auto pilot alone, "I think I can hear it beating, Kenz!"

The girl, ready with the line about booze finally getting to Dyson's clarity of mind, bit back on it and was startled into misstepping by his earnestly stupefied expression. In an instinctive attempt neither to crash into the wolf's hip bone nor to twist any of her precious ankles, Kenzi planted her left hand against his chest for purchase and stopped. The last chorus was humming in the background, her mind was catching up with her movements and the wolf put his big palm over her hand. The girl's disbelieving grey eyes were riveted to their fingers almost intertwining on his chest and Dyson's deep voice confirmed what her confused senses were tentatively telling her, "Your heart's beating and I can touch you, Kenzi."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 10

With an effort Trick straightened up from his spasmodic crouch and saw the Norn sagged against her tree, eyes shut and face screwed in an expression of pain.

"It's done," he called to her softly, almost sympathetic.

"It's done," she echoed, opening her pale blue eyes that fell down to a shattered jar on the floor between them, a wisp of purple still smoking up from the glass shards, "Our memories are restored and I have to admit to neither enjoying the procedure nor feeling any happier for it."

"Not knowing of the threat does not diminish it," the Blood King squared his shoulders, "Now, at least, we know who we have to deal with – Apep. And the malice that gets named is easier to cancel out. We did it once, we'll do it again."

"Keep telling yourself that, my king," the woman cackled, finding strength to unpeel herself from her vegetative support, "But don't forget that this time around the scales might be tipped in his favor. Bo, your granddaughter, is a real game-changer. Her strength might be just what Apep needs to break free. Remember what a boost in powers he got when she was born, so much so that we had to do what we did to him. Come to think of it, that might have been precisely the reason for him to get a child by a powerful succubus of royal lineage – your daughter."

"I don't appreciate you tagging my grand-daughter as a walking recharger for Apep. And Bo will never surrender to him, not willingly," Trick said with unwavering conviction marred, however, by an added reasoning, "But she, as any other person, can be coerced. The ghost that got released from the Dark realm, the one I told you about, belongs to someone Bo will gladly lay down her life for."

"So, it's no coincidence that it was given free pass into our world," the Norn continued smoothly, "the ghost is an incentive for Bo to cross over into his realm. As soon as she's there, her daddy starts on his stick and carrot routine – playing right into her daughtery feelings and into her affection for the being she is striving to get back. Bo will cave to save her human and will give him what he needs."

"It's my task to make sure that doesn't happen, she must not go beyond the portal," the Blood King's voice was as resolute as his face was grim, "And you'll help me."

"Will it help the cause if the ghost disappears in a puff of smoke – once and for all? Cos I think I can swing that – annihilating the ka," the Norn offered with a proud little smile, her fingers curling in anticipation of feeling another of her jars with some ghostly essence.

Immediately, Trick's now fully unfettered memory gingerly pushed one particular remembrance to the forefront of his mind – that of a tiny human girl smiling through her tears at her friends before she walked into a rectangle of deadly light. The old fae had to squash the impulse to cover his ears as if that could help him to block out the subsequent scream of the wolf's anguish that was imprinted for ever in his head.

"No," he said levelly and skewered the old woman with a commanding glare, "You will not harm the ghost, we need her for a scope of reasons. First of all, because Bo will never stop looking for her friend and the best way to keep her away from Apep is to think of a way to get Kenzi back."

"Kenzi?" the Norn frowned and her hand rose to cover the raw spot on her tree again, "the sassy midge who burst into my home and chainsawed me into parting with one of my best trophies - the shaggy dog's love? There's no getting rid of this human, even getting her killed doesn't help."

"Get her alive again then," Trick suggested, "And Bo will be easily swayed into reducing the portal to a handful of dust and sealing Apep in forever."

"As far as my knowledge of the ka stretches, she is alive," the Norn muttered speculatively and went on to clarify under the man's interrogative gaze, "Her essence is here, out of the Dark Lord's reach, he can't control her in this world. Her intellect and her willpower, her whole personality is intact. Isn't that the definition of alive? Who needs her fragile, short-lived human body?"

"I would hazard a guess that Kenzi herself very much needs her body in all its human-ness," Trick sneered back, "She kinda misses the possibility of feeding it, getting it drunk and doing other bodily stuff with it."

"The longer the spirit is here, in this world, the more physical it's going to become," the Norn shrugged her shoulders dismissively, "the more perception she's going to get. Like people who find themselves in a foreign country, deaf and mute and disoriented at the start, learn the language and the surroundings. Like actors, who practice an emotion they don't really feel, not only learn to depict it but begin to feel it as well."

"I don't think either of the girls would settle for that," Trick shook his head, unconvinced, and took a step towards the door, "They will be adamant to reunite Kenzi with her body and before that is achieved we can't possibly reseal the portal. Thus, you can make yourself useful by unearthing whatever could help Kenzi from your convoluted mind and you can fiddle with spells to weaken Apep while I have to make my friends aware of the danger and to stop Bo from doing anything rash."

When the Blood King was finally done with his instructions and was well out of her house, the fact the rustling leaves informed her of, the old woman headed back to her pantry of tricks.

"To help a pathetic human to protect us all from the evil incarnate? Reasonable but not glamorous. I've already given that stupid girl the most precious thing ever – love," the Norn pouted fingering the pots and jars on the dusty shelves, "not my fault that when she held it in her hands she gave it away. Though what is to be expected from a creature who values a mortal body more than immense possibilities of ethereal existence? Maybe I can start by giving her a better understanding of the upsides of that."

She extracted a small opaque jar from the clutter of one of the shelves with a satisfied chuckle. "For starters, how about I teach you to feed, little ghost?" she murmured unstopping the jar and shaking the gassy contents into the air, "Ghosts usually pick a prey and feed on the fear they themselves induce but you are not a usual ghost, you induce love, not fright. So let's get you on a diet of just that!"

When Trick made his dignified way into the room he had left his friends in, he almost stumbled over the threshold at the sight that could have been perfectly normal in their pre-losing-Kenzi lives but became a total stunner at that point. Right in the middle of the room Dyson was standing with his arms around a diminutive figure in a sequined dress, his chin resting on the black-haired head that was planted face-first into the chest of his shirt.

"I thought I was bringing you some astonishing news," the bar-tender slash acting Ash exhaled, "But seems like you have some more interesting developments here."

Dyson's arms dropped to his sides as Kenzi untwined herself from his embrace and turned to Trick with an expression that he could hardly read on her vaguely outlined face.

"I can hear her heart-beat, Trick," Dyson informed him, his eyes glowing, his tone unreservedly happy, "And I can touch her and feel her and she can touch me. I don't know how it happened, we were just dancing … ."

Trick made a mental promise to himself to go easy on his old heart and not let himself be surprised any longer, not where Kenzi was concerned anyway, and strode across the room towards his younger friends. He extended a probing arm and cautiously pressed his palm to the glimmering contour that was Kenzi's shoulder but his skin didn't catch a whiff of warmth and his fingers went right through.

"Sorry, Kenzi," the Blood King sighed disappointed, "But I can feel nothing. Though admittedly, I can see you a bit more clearly now, you're still immaterial to me."

The girl's frustrated eyes turned to the wolf in a silent plea to which he immediately responded by looping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her closer into a hug.

"I am not losing it, Trick," Dyson almost growled as he laced fingers with Kenzi, "We can feel each other like we used to. Her vibe is different but that's her body is my arms."

The Blood King flicked his gaze from the wolf to the ghost and back and, for once, was stumped for an explanation. Nothing about the situation rang any bells, there were no similar past experiences to draw on.

"Ok, there is an easy way to prove that our screws are not loosening," Kenzi tossed off and disengaged from the protective shifter to head for the coffee table and the bottle she had been eying enviously from the very moment her baby greys clapped on it. Her fingers curled around the neck and tingled from the cool touch of the glass but when she tried to lift it, the bottle slipped from her grasp.

"Bottom line, fluffy and I are still in our right minds, as right as they have ever been, which in itself might be a moot point – I am obviously not alive but I am definitely getting better at … well … at being a bit of a physical presence," she concluded with a heavy sigh, "Maybe I should train more."

"Seems like you're getting stronger," Trick conceded the point more convinced by their hand-hold than by the little bottle-show, "Your ability to interact with the physical world is improving but what bugs me is why it is primarily your interaction with Dyson that is making such striking progress?"

The shifter lifted a shoulder in a "beats-me" gesture and passed a weary hand across his brow – right before he could open his mouth to toss out a half-baked theory of his own, the room suddenly closed in on him and he had to lean against the wall not to keel. It took his best stoic expressionless look to cover the inexplicable weakness that overcame the wolf's body but another second later the dizzy spell passed and his eyes found Kenzi's smiling face, the sight that gave him enough of a boost to dismiss the incident from his mind and focus on the vital.

"Your turn, Trick," Dyson strode back to the arm-chair he had previously occupied as casually as he could master and lowered himself into it, trying his hardest not to make it look like a relieved flop-down that it was, "Out with your findings."

Taking her cue from him, Kenzi trotted over to hop back onto the arm-rest that had been her perch but this time around she made a point of propping herself with an elbow on Dyson's shoulder, extracting considerable comfort from the warm solid feel of his tensed muscles.

With a grimace of someone getting into a dentist's chair, Trick took a seat on the low couch facing his friends and braced himself for the story he knew none of them was going to enjoy.

"I think I know who the Dark Lord really is and what is his agenda with Kenzi and Bo," he started a bit shakily, "Millennia ago he was known as the evil god Apep of Egypt."

"Didn't know gods are territorial, as kings," Kenzi couldn't rein in her nervous curiosity.

"The creatures loosely termed gods are, in fact, the most powerful and practically immortal of our race, those with the unique abilities to change fate or command forces of nature or resurrect the dead. Not to engage in exterminating each other, thousands of years ago they agreed to spread all around the world, take over a nation or a tribe and be worshipped within their allocated land," Trick lectured on, "A convention of sorts that, however, is known to have been repeatedly broken in the course of history – a fae-God might have strayed onto another's territory and then the stronger overpowered and ousted the weaker. Sometimes a family that imposed their godly rule over a particular land failed to compromise with each other and a fratricide ensued. Given their internecine tendencies, arrogant inability to change with the times and the inability to pass on most of their super genes to their descendants, the ranks of the fae-gods gradually dwindled over the centuries and now the rare survivors of the proud race tend to keep themselves to themselves, like our Northern pal Odin."

"A millennium ago the woods were positively crawling with the deity, you weren't allowed to piss at a tree without asking permission of one forest god or another," Dyson was clearly set off on a trip down the memory lane of his own, "Once, as a cub, I crunched on a rabbit and Andraste, who, a war goddess and all, was inordinately fond of the fluff balls, almost took off half of my tail with her spear."

Kenzi couldn't help a snort as she pictured Dyson as a pup with his tail tucked and a guilty look on a rabbit-blood smeared muzzle and Trick gave them both his best chastening stare and continued on his historical background narration.

"Apep was one of those who fell victim to sibling rivalry when his younger brother Set got greedy and powerful enough to defeat him and kill him. Unfortunately, they didn't bury Apep deep enough – the sleazy bastard was the one with the gift of resurrection. The spell they put on his tomb wore out with the passage of time and Apep revived himself after several thousand years of slumber," the Blood King was becoming increasingly somber as he was getting closer to the modern times, "Admittedly, he was greatly weakened by being dead and enchanted for so long and the effort of resurrection wiped his memory clean and he lost most of his uber-fae powers. What brought him to the New World I don't know but once here he became a dark fae and for several centuries, mighty and ruthless, was known as the Dark Lord - the one I sacrificed my daughter to, the one who fathered a fae girl we all know and love. Right about the time Bo was conceived the Dark Lord started to remember his true identity and his strength began to seep back. That was when the Norn, who has her uses, became aware of his presence and alerted me to this growing menace. Given his past record of wreaking havoc in Egypt, we both deemed it wise to contain the threat while it was still fledgling. We orchestrated Aiofe's escape with the baby and we used our combined powers to banish the Dark Lord to another realm and seal the door behind him."

"What we couldn't predict was that the baby would be lost for several decades and that Apep would regain enough strength to try and make a comeback to this world," the old fae finished his spiel, throat dry and tone bordering on apologetic, "How could we know that a human would be killed and partially revived to bring the lost girl back to her father?"

Her hand now clamping down on the wolf's shoulder with unghostly physical intensity, Kenzi bypassed the dubious alliance with the mean-spirited old hag and Trick's morally questionable parenting as she spat out her pithy recap, "So, a vicious overambitious evil super-fae is nothing new - seen that, exterminated that. But he is after Bo and we are sitting here on our shapely asses, reminiscing? And here was me thinking that my priority task is to wean D-man off the bottle and women that are too good for him!"


End file.
